


The Niff Chronicles

by littlemiss_m



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Military, Nifflheim is a Bad Place, Rebellion, all the "important" characters will show up sooner or later, but i'm not going to tag them unless they actually do something in the story, planning & scheming, ravus loqi and aranea save the world, survival under a dictatorship, technology vs gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: Loqi, Ravus, and Aranea save the world.(A canon fix-it featuring everyone's favorite Niffs.)





	1. Insomnia Falls... Not?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is something I've been planning for a while but never got around to actually writing - until now, that is :D I'll do my best to update once a week on Sundays but can't really promise anything. Also, because I'm only just starting the third chapter, I can't tag ahead for everything so I'll just update the tags with each new chapter. 
> 
> To give an idea of what to except warning-wise, this fic will stick to canon levels of violence in terms of people fighting/battling each other. There won't be any non-con or underage, though there will be mentions of such things possibly happening to other people. Nifflheim is a really bad place in this fic (also in canon) and there will be fairly detailed mentions of human experimentation (because Besithia) and people with authority abusing their positions, though the abuse is sanctioned by Iedolas and therefore a pretty central part of how the Imperial army functions.
> 
> That said, I will do my best to tag things properly with each new update! If I end up missing something, please don't hesitate to let me know - this fic is going to be a long one, and I'm frying my brain just thinking about what to tag :D
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy reading! <3

On May sixteenth, all of Eos waited with bated breath, their eyes glued on TV screens and ears straining to catch every word spoken over radio channels. Even those with little access to modern devices knew what day it was and what it meant for them, like they knew all the possible outcomes and repercussions. If things went well, there would be peace. If things were badly, the war would continue.

Insomnia had not changed much in the sixteen, seventeen years that had passed since Ravus' previous visit. Though the passage of time was visible even to the naked eye – in modernized electronics or the weather-worn surfaces of buildings – the essence of the city remained the same. The streets had not changed directions, the parks grew green and lush under the midsummer sun, and the Wall still cast a shiny gleam against the sky. Even the Citadel was the same it had always been, tall and black and so unbelievably hideous Ravus could not help sneering at the very sight of it.

Insomnians were not clever people, Ravus thought while climbing the staircase leading into the Citadel; or perhaps they were simply soft and naive, not at all understanding the reality of the world they lived in. The Wall had protected them so long they no longer knew what it was like to struggle, to fear the night, to feel the cold hands of war. Of all the people on Eos, Insomnians were the only ones to live in near absolute safety, never worrying about things the rest of the world feared and faced on daily basis.

Up on the stairs, the king stood waiting. Lunafreya was next to him; Ravus was not surprised, yet a pulse of frustration surged in his veins at the sight of her. The irritation turned to a mixture of raging fear when he spotted a tall man in a black uniform standing at the back of the group, his mother's killer far too close to his sister. Ravus scowled and turned back to Regis.

Ravus stared him straight in the eye when he was introduced – _Ravus Nox Fleuret, Commander of the Imperial Army_ – and felt little else but fury when he saw the flash of pity in the king's eyes, like he had any right to judge. The memories of that day were still fresh in Ravus' mind, detailed as if it had truly been the previous day, and it would have been a lie for him to deny wishing to see King Regis burn. Lunafreya, who could have known freedom instead of the chains of the Empire, had not once berated the Lucian King for his inability to save her and their mother, but Ravus did not share her kindness. He couldn't, not when he could still taste the ash of the burning manor, not when he himself had been reduced to a slave to parade around like a prized trophy.

Casting one last look at the crowds surrounding the Citadel, Ravus allowed himself a sigh before following Izunia and Emperor Iedolas into the building.

Ravus wanted Regis dead, as much was true; yet more than anything, he wanted Lunafreya and Tenebrae safe. Standing in the corner of the meeting room while Iedolas and Regis hammered on about the importance of a treaty and shared apologies of battles past, Ravus watched the king, knowing that doing nothing would result in his death, likely within the same day. Unfortunately – or fortunately – someone had already done something, and so a new plan was put in motion, a little pebble of a stone jamming the rolling ball that was the Empire's objective.

” _Sirs_ ,” a nervous voice pleaded over Ravus' earpiece, ” _the MTs are malfunctioning. I repeat, the MTs are malfuntioning. Roughly a third of the units have powered down, and another third are acting on their own. The remaining third appears functional but whatever is wrong with them, it looks like it's spreading. At the moment, only one in four are suitable for dispatching_.”

Ravus glanced around the room, catching the eyes of some of the Imperial soldiers standing at attention behind himself and Izunia, whose expression remained as untrustworthy as usual. In the middle of the room, Iedolas finished signing the paper and slid it over to Regis, who took hold of it with his head held high.

He knew, then. Ravus watched him, the grayness of his hair and the golden brace holding him up, and knew without a doubt that Regis had understood the truth behind Nifflheim's offer of a peace treaty. He had no name for the emotion he felt over the realization, though it did leave him wondering whether it would be better to fall in surprise or in resignation.

”For eternal peace,” the king murmured as he raised his pen. ”May time heal the wounds of the past and bring us all salvation.”

The treaty signed, Regis put down his pen and turned to shake hands with Iedolas while his Shield eyed the room grimly, clearly not trusting the Imperials. Two or three cameras flashed, the news crew zeroed in on the two smiling monarchs, and then – nothing happened.

” _The Wallbreaker Waves are not working!_ ” someone cried. Ravus looked at the window and saw a glimmering magical barrier holding the Imperial airships at bay. ” _The Wall is still up! We can't get in!_ ”

Soldiers shifted their weights from one foot to the other. The handshake was supposed to be the sign yet nothing was happening; Iedolas, not outfitted with an earwig, looked around in confusion, still holding onto Regis' hands. In the corner, Ravus kept his face carefully impassive, waiting to see how things would play out.

”Well!” Izunia said after a moment, stepping forward with a dramatic flounce. ”Isn't it a happy day!”

Whether this step of the plan would succeed or fall was not a matter of disabling the army and the Wallbreaker Waves; it was a matter of Izunia's actions, none of which were predictable in the slightest. Ravus knew who he was, what he was, _why_ he was, and so he waited, for a creature driven by two millennias of hatred could not be an easy man to deceive.

It was clear that both sides were confused. While the Niffs had been waiting for the order to attack, the Lucians had been waiting to be attacked, and now that nothing was happening, no-one knew how to act. No-one but Izunia, who sauntered towards the middle of the room, grinning lazily, deviously, as he bowed before the two monarchs.

”On behalf of the Empire of Nifflheim, I would like to offer a gift to our new friend Lucis,” he said. Iedolas watched him in disapproval, yet he, too, apparently knew better than to go against Izunia. ”A gift of knowledge, in fact. After all, to ensure a peaceful future, we must tear down all the walls between us, don't you agree, Your Majesty?”

Regis glanced between Izunia and Iedolas. ”Indeed,” he said slowly. ”Though I am afraid we have little to gift in turn.”

”Oh, I am sure that this... eternal peace you speak of is enough, Your Majesty,” Izunia answered. Ravus felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up in anticipation: whatever Izunia was planning, it wouldn't go down quietly. ”And so, to prove our loyalty to the peace of the world, I shall now unveil a dark secret: an imperial spy in your regal ranks.”

Indignation was truly the only word to describe the athmosphere in the room. Though no-one dare speak up in full voice, the groups of soldiers at both ends of the room were glancing at each other in confused surprise, whisper-soft murmurs too clear to be distinguished. Ravus stood tense and felt his stomach clench nervously. It was clear to him that Izunia would not allow the meeting to end without drama or bloodshed.

”A spy?” someone in the ranks of Lucian councilors murmured. ”A spy!”

”Yes!” Izunia gasped, sounding utterly delighted. ”Indeed. In an act of honest goodwill, I present to you General Glauca – or, as you know him, the honorable Captain of the Kingsglaive, Titus Drautos.”

At first, all was still. Even Ravus found himself staring at Izunia open-mouthed, unable to believe his ears. Of all the possibilities he had entertained, to see Izunia throw Glauca under the bus without a moment's hesitation... he wanted to call it deranged, futile, but at the same time, he knew better.

Glauca would not go down without a fight, and so a diversion would be greated. Ravus had just enough time to glance at Izunia to confirm his suspicions before Regis turned to face the traitor, looking tired and almost heartbroken in that moment. ”Titus, my friend,” the old fool gasped, reaching out a hand. ”Tell me it isn't so.”

For a moment, Glauca stood still. The fire in his eyes had Ravus sweating under his clothes, almost enough to bring the taste of ash to his mouth; then the man tilted his chin up and summoned the armor. ”Yes,” his voice boomed, echoing over the horrified gasps of those not in the know. ”Yes, Regis, yes! You _murderer_ , you _coward_ , you who would sacrifice your own people so that this one wretched city should survive! Yes, Regis... yes, it is I, Glauca... your death.”

And so all hell broke out.

* * *

On a day not a full year earlier, Ravus stood at the windows of his sister's rooms, watching Imperial troops marching in the same courtryards where his mother and her court had been slain. Lunafreya sat on a sofa somewhere behind him, a cup of tea on her lap and her dogs at her feet. Even Gentiana was in the room, though to Ravus, her form was never as corporeal as it was in her sister's eyes.

”Are you sure?” he asked, not turning to look face Lunafreya.

”Without a doubt,” she replied. Her tea cup clacked against the saucer when she either picked it up or set it down. ”Chancellor Izunia is the Accursed.”

Still gazing out of the windows, Ravus hummed. ”And what do you wish to achieve by sharing with me this information?” he asked. ”You of all people should know there's little I can do to help the matter, even if your words were the truth.”

Her declaration was any absurd as any other idea over the Accursed's true identity, and though Ravus still took it with a grain of salt, he could nevertheless see the evidence beginning to pile up at the back of his head. Izunia was a mystery who had appeared out of nowhere and inserted himself right within the heart of the Imperial government; even more damning was his heavy involvement in the Magitek program and the refining of daemon blood for scientific use.

”Though our paths have long since diverged from each other,” Lunafreya answered him a moment later, ”I know where your heart lies. I cannot help you like you cannot help me, but if with this knowledge you can secure the safety of our people, then that is enough for me.”

Ravus snorted a laugh that fogged up the window pane by his face. ”I would rather secure your safety,” he murmured. ”You know that.”

Lunafreya laughed, a clear sound that hid the quiet patter of her footfalls on carpeted floors. ”But you _can't_ save me, Ravus,” she said, almost desperate. She stood behind him and he refused to turn to face her, defiantly hiding in the windows instead. ”My fate is not yours to decide.”

”It shouldn't be his either!”

This time, her laughter sounded akin to sobs and Ravus tensed, clenching his fingers into fists while she dug hers into the back of his coat. ”I know you hate Noctis,” Luna spoke quietly, carefully; ”I know you would kill him to save me. But that wouldn't change a thing, and you know as much as we do that this is our fate. He will die, and I, too, will likely perish by his side. The two of us don't get a choice in the matter.”

She hugged him, then, pressing against his back and twining her thin arms around his chest. Ravus saw the reflection of her blonde hair move in the window before he felt her trembling embrace. Unable to speak, he grasped her hands with his own, gloved ones, and squeezed as hard as he dared.

”My only wish is that you will be there to witness the rise of the sun,” Luna murmured wetly. ”That you will be there to guide our people into the new day. That, one day, you might find happiness in this world – even if I am not there to share it with you.”

Ravus hated Noctis for his part in Lunafreya's oncoming death, like he hated Regis for his inability so save neither his mother nor his sister from the flames that came to consume all of Tenebrae. He hated the Astrals for the destiny they scripted for all of mankind, and he hated the Scourge rotting their planet from its very core.

Most of all, he hated himself and his weakness, his failure to protect anything he held dear.

* * *

Hours later, when the blood pounding in his ears would quiet, Ravus would have no choice but to admit that Izunia's plan had been a brilliant one. Glauca raised his sword not only at Regis but at Iedolas as well, and when some of the Glaives broke rank to join him in the battle, the remaining ones found themselves unable to tell friend for foe.

In the mayhem of the room, Ravus made for his sister, only to be stopped by Izunia grasping his wrist with fingers digging into his skin like claws. ”Get the Crystal,” the man hissed at him, the previous playfulness long gone from his voice. ”You will not fail me, understood?”

Refusing to look away, Ravus clenched his jaws. ”Yes, sir,” he said, tugging his wrist loose. ”I'll need help.”

”And you will get it,” Izunia answered, ”but you will need to go now, before we are out of time. Remember this, Commander: the Crystal is our foremost objective.”

Izunia danced away with a playfully twirling sword. Ravus sought out Luna in the chaos and was glad to see a small group Glaives all working to protect her, even against the traitors; nearby, the King and his Shield were working together with Imperial soldiers to take down Glauca. Though Ravus' heart told him to go to his sister, he knew he couldn't, not without risking his cover, and so he slipped towards the throne and the chamber where the Crystal was being held.

He was not the Oracle but he was of her blood and that was enough. Ravus could feel the Crystal before he saw it; goosebumps rose on his arms and a shiver ran through his body like a trickle of static electricity. Inside the chamber, the air felt heavy, oppressive, like it didn't have enough oxygon to keep his lungs sated.

A dragon-shaped shadow appeared behind the Crystal and Ravus fell down on one knee, not entirely out of his own accord. ”My Lord,” he gasped. Bahamut was silent. ”I am Ravus Nox Fleuret, the rightful son of the Crown of Tenebrae, the blood of the Oracles.”

This time, Bahamut responded with a sound that was like hundreds of voice tracks layered atop each other, screeching and grinding against his eardrums. Ravus was only vaguely aware of four Imperial soldiers slipping into the room with the crate designed to ferry the Crystal out of the Citadel and into Iedolas' flagship. They were Magitek, all four of them, equipped with small anti-Crystal modules not unlike the Wallbreaker Waves; the virus that corrupted the larger machines had not spread fast enough.

”Bring it forward,” Ravus ordered, jerking his head towards the altar before them. Gritting his teeth together, he heaved himself onto his feet once more and dragged his aching body to the Crystal, waiting until the crate was as close as possible before laying his hands on the shimmering stone.

For a moment, he was sure he'd blacked out from the searing pain. Like Glauca in the throne room, the Crystal – sentient enough to hold Bahamut's will – would not go down quietly and without a fight. A pained giggle tore from Ravus throat when he pushed at the Crystal, trying to inch it into the crate.

Fucking Izunia, he thought; if the Astrals hadn't already cursed the man, then Ravus would have done so in their place. The Crystal was not a kind or benevolent force as the world and Insomnians especially liked to believe, no; it was hard and cruel, sapping life from the Caelum dynasty and willing to destroy anyone else who dared make contact with it. The blood of the Oracle made for the only exception to the rule, and that Izunia had known of it had only worked to confirm that he truly was the Accursed. Standing before the Imperial throne, Ravus would not have freely offered the information about the Crystal, but with Izunia and Iedolas alike staring down at him, he'd had little choice in the matter. There were four – five, perhaps, if Izunia still counted – people in the world who could touch the Crystal without risk of death, and he was the one the Empire had access to.

When the Crystal finally fell into the crate, Ravus stepped back panting. One of the MTs was down on the floor, immobile, its anti-Crystal module broken or shortcircuited; Ravus didn't care. ”Pack it up,” he gasped, ”follow your orders.”

The remaining MTs closed the crate and began pushing it out of the room. Ravus stayed behind for a beat, wiping sweat from his brow and trying to catch his breath, before turning and walking in the other direction. If the Lucians were to intercept the MTs and take back the Crystal, then whatever – his part of the job was done. With the massive mess brewing, he wouldn't be blamed for anything unless someone caught wind of his involvement, in which case he'd be dead anyway.

* * *

He had meant to find Lunafreya, but she found him instead. The sounds of fighting had quieted slightly but if Ravus listened carefully, he could still hear the clash of steel and the cries of the soldiers. He was just about to duck into a room when Luna peeked out of another one, immediately reaching to pull him in with her.

”Thank the Astrals, you're okay,” she gasped, as if the entire battle wasn't at least partially his fault. ”Crowe, can you give us a minute?”

A woman in a Kingsglaive uniform nodded with a scowl and stepped away, far enough to give them the space to share a whispered conversationg. Though she looked nothing like Aranea, she carried herself in the same fashion, and so Ravus decided she couldn't be trusted; Lunafreya, on the other hand, had come to the opposite conclusion.

”She was the one to escort me here,” she said. ”I trust her.”

Ravus pressed his lips into a thin line. ”If you refuse my protection, there is naught I can do to aid you,” he spoke instead of clinging to the matter of the Glaive. ”Please, Luna, return home.”

”You know I can't,” she said, smiling with a sadness Ravus loathed to see on her face. ”I do not yet understand what has happened today, but it is time for me to go and awaken the Astrals. I will be safe, doing what I must do, so please, brother – let me go. Learn to let me go.”

Ravus had nothing to say to that, other than the old argument there was no point in repeating, so she continued: ”I can feel the Crystal leaving this place, Ravus. I hope that you know what you're doing.”

”It won't mean a thing,” he huffed in return. There truly was no need to keep the Crystal within the Citadel or even Insomnia; the Caelums would keep their access to the magic wherever the stone was taken, and they both knew as much. Ravus glanced at the Glaive to make sure she wasnt listening in and pulled Luna closer, murmuring into her ear: ”All I do I do for Tenebrae.”

That said, he let go and stepped back. ”Be safe, sister.”

Luna steeled herself and nodded. ”You too, brother. May you find your way through the times that are to come.”

Without another word, Ravus turned around on his heels and walked out, leaving her behind despite the bone-deep knowledge that this may very well have been their last meeting.

* * *

 _My only wish is that you will be there to witness the rise of the sun_ , Lunafreya had told him that day. Ravus did not think it likely, not when the Empire began strenghtening its ranks in preparation of a war against Lucis. The Astrals would take what they wanted to take, the King and the Prince and Luna all alike; there was a large possibility that his death was another requirement for the prophecy's passing, to confirm the erasure of the Oracle's bloodline from Eos.

He didn't think there was much of a chance for him or for Luna, but for Tenebrae, he still tried. At first, there was little for Ravus to do beyond forming tentative alliances here and there, the beginnings of a revolution he might not live to finish. Then, one day a military council was called and Besithia introduced to a gasping audience his newest, greatest invention: the Wallbreaker Wave, a device to distrubt the Crystal's magic.

Stealing a glance at Iedolas, Ravus knew he saw a chance to invade Insomnia; looking at Izunia, he understood the man was aiming for that very chance. When he set his own eyes on the glowing holograms detailing the Wallbreaker Wave, Ravus, however, felt the first strike of hope so pure it felt like a line of silver cutting his heart in two. Besithia had not only reminded him that there already existed a means of slaying an Astral, but also pointed out a possiblity Ravus had never thought realistic; for if Ardyn was the Accursed King, then he was the blood of Somnus Lucis Caelum and therefore a user of Lucian magic.

”This is a further development of the device we used to slay the Glacian,” Besithia explained, nodding his graying head while Ravus fought to keep his expression under control. ”Instead of weakening the strenght of any chosen Astral, these versions have been tested against a handful of users of Lucian magic and it is now proven that we can completely shut down the connection between a magic user and the Crystal. Of course, we also strenghtened the earlier version to cause further damage to the Astrals...”

As Besithia droned on about the improvements and the many versions of the Wallbreaker Wave, Ravus found himself almost dizzy with hyperfocus. Could they not see? Could they not understand that the Crystal's magic belonged to no other but the Draconian himself? That by slaying Bahamut, the Crystal might be rendered powerless and the Caelum's magicless? Ravus did not dare risk a glance at Izunia, who must have known what he did: that any attempt to separate the Crystal's power from that of the Astrals' was wholly unnecessary... but then again, where Ravus finally found hope for both Lunafreya and himself, Iedolas only saw a chance to finalize his dream of claiming the whole world under the Empire's flag.

Maybe that was a similarity between them, Ravus thought while watching Besithia continue his lecture; they both wanted to control the Astrals, be it for two very different reasons.


	2. A Declaration of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after the treaty signing and no-one knows what the heck is going on, least of all Loqi. Which is a problem because he has a rebellion to plan and with literal gods already involved in the business, he really doesn't need any extra problems, thank you very much.

The day after the failed invasion, Loqi despaired over the mere thought of getting out of bed and joining the rest of the army for the inevitable dressing-down. He hadn't been directly involved in the mess – his troops had been designated as back-up – but the simple scale of the failure meant the whole country would be blamed for it. The MTs not working? Clearly the science teams didn't know what they were up to. The Wallbreaker Waves breaking down at the worst possible moment? Same shit. Loqi went through the morning's news over his breakfast and it seemed like the whole world was utterly stumped over the treaty signing, to put it plain and simple. King Regis and most of his men had survived; the same went for the Imperial side. Glauca had been caught alive and taken to custody along with any remaining traitors, and at first instance, the two countries joining together to battle against Glauca had made the peace treaty seem truthful, honest.

Then, hours later, the Crown of Lucis had announced that the Empire had managed to steal the Crystal, and once again no-one knew what to think.

The King didn't need the Crystal in Insomnia, it looked like; reports coming in from Lucis all confirmed that the Wall was still up and as impenetrable as ever before. Ravus had told him as much when they began crafting their plan, yet Loqi knew better than to trust someone whose end goal only overlapped with his. Though they worked together, they were doing so for different causes, and Loqi would not let blind faith crumble it all away. Not after everything he'd already done to save his countrymen.

* * *

The scolding they all received left most of the military leaders in sour mood, Loqi amongst them; as a mecha specialist, he was brought in for the second lecture, attended by the senior members of all science teams, and that was when the punishments began. Loqi stood still and impassive as General Roth read through a list of names, mostly of those involved in the MT and Wallbreaker Wave design and manufacture; depending on the superior who chose them, there was a high possibility that some of them would never return. Besithia – who, of course, would not be held responsible for his teams' failures – was ruthless with those he thought unneeded in his service, and getting called to him tended to mean experimentation of some kind; Loqi had once been forced to witness someone being vivisected, and though his own hands were far from unbloodied, the memory still haunted his nightmares.

The other superiors were rarely much better, but most agreed that it was better to return shamed than in a body bag. Loqi knew the embarrassment, the humiliation of walking away from a one-on-one session of corporal punishment. It didn't matter that whatever happened usually took place behind a locked door, away from prying eyes; rumors spread fast inside the lenghtly halls of the Keep and in this instance, the truth hardly mattered. Shame was the Emperor's favorite method of reigning in his army, and it worked.

At the front of the grand room, Roth read through his list swiftly, irritation and contempt shimmering under his calm. The last person to be called forward was someone Loqi recognized, someone he knew was part of the rebellion, but Loqi made no moves to save her. He couldn't, not without risking everything. Depending on the punishment she received, there was already a chance that she might talk in one last, desperate attempt to save her life, and that was risky enough on its own.

Loqi watched her walk out of the hall, towards the small room where an assistant would read her her punishment and direct her wherever she was off to. Their gazes slid past each other, meeting but neither stalling nor communicating, and then she was gone and Roth tucked his tablet under his arm. ”You're all dismissed,” the General sneered, looking down at his audience. ”Remember: we are all complicit in yesterday's failure. We are all a shame and an embarrassment for the Imperial Throne, which we've all sworn our lives and faith for. Work harder! Work better! Glory to Nifflheim!”

The sound of a hundred boots stomping the metal floor echoed in the room. ”Glory to Nifflheim!” they all telled, Loqi amongst them, and with that, they were all free to go.

Afterwards, Loqi made his way to the labs where most of his team was already waiting. When he entered, some looked up, brief expressions of – relief, hope, distrust? – passing their faces at the sight of him returning. Standing in the doorway, Loqi let his gaze glide past the people in the room, counting heads and names, comparing them against the list in his head. A few of the missing people had other matters to attend to, but not all of them.

”Where is Cuprum?” he asked. Most of the people looked away, their faces grim. Someone shrugged, another sighed. They didn't know, then; the knowledge was like a sinking stone in Loqi's stomach. Too many people had gone missing lately, all without an explanation. ”I see. Do we have any new orders?”

One of the engineers stood up and beckoned him closer, towards the room where they built the mecha. ”We're to finish the last adjustments on your MA-X Cuirass ASAP,” she said, using her keycard to open the locked door. ”Bryx and I managed to get the control panel fitted in yesterday evening, so all that's left is making sure everything fits you.”

Loqi nodded, surveying the hulking piece of metal and electronics before him. The brass had ordered the new Cuirass model when it became clear that they would soon be waging war on Insomnia, but it hadn't been prioritized; despite the raw power built into the machine, it had been disregarded as unnecessary for the invasion. That decision had likely saved Loqi from another round of punishments.

”I see,” he said, sneering. ”I must have a mission coming up. I'll go get changed; you, get the machines running.”

The last order was hardly needed but Loqi spat it out all the same. The hum of the computers and diagnostic tools accompanied the sound of his footsteps when he marched towards the small dressing room to get changed into the undersuit required to control the mecha; it was black and skintight, made of the same material used to fuse the clones into their MT suits, and every time Loqi pulled it on, he was reminded of just how easily his life could end. One mistake, one superior in a mood too hard, and he'd be gifted over to Besithia like his life meant nothing.

Under Iedolas' rule, it didn't. Loqi was already dreading whatever mission he was to be sent out for; in the past, he'd mostly been used either in crowd control, both local and foreign, or to dispose of daemons threatening Gralea. He'd clashed blades with Lucians, Galahdians, and Tenebraeans alike, and in the light of the recent news, it was likely that was what he'd be doing once again – fighting. He hadn't yet been briefed on Iedolas' next move, but with the Crystal in Gralea... they'd be continuing the war.

Swallowing his sigh, Loqi twisted his face back into a scowl and returned to his work station. ”Were we given any specific orders on how to tune the Cuirass?” he asked, nodding curtly at the second engineer buzzing around the machine. ”Or am I to go blind into war once more?”

The newcomer pursed his lips. ”As long as you're ready to dispatch within twenty-four hours, anything's good,” he said, passing over a tablet. ”Here.”

Saying nothing, Loqi took the offered device and scrolled down the list of instructions emailed to his team. Twenty-four hours – there was a chance he'd be ordered to intercept either the Oracle or Prince Noctis, seeing as news reports positioned both outside the protection of the Insomnian Wall. They wouldn't be attempting a second attack so soon after the first one, not when the MTs were still malfunctioning and the Wallbreaker Waves worthless. Loqi's scowl deepened when he thought about the implications; whatever his mission, he wouldn't be allowed to fail it.

The cockpit had been built around his body and fit him almost too snuggly, but Loqi didn't complain while he wiggled himself in and began attaching the little suction cups on the pre-marked spots on his suit. Soon he felt the buzz of static energy run across his skin, raising thin hairs into a fuzziness he still wasn't quite used to.

”Alright, let's go,” he said, powering up the Cuirass. The new screen on the control panel lit up, showcasing the start-up diagnostic run. Loqi's eyes slid through the numbers and lines of text with ease, but the information left him feeling anything but; the MT virus had infected some of the already weak software.

There was no way to get the Cuirass field-ready in time.

* * *

[redacted number]: i'm to kill kitty and bratty –belly  
[redacted number]: lmao –889  
[redacted number]: can't risk bratty dying yet –crabby  
[redacted number]: do we know what's going on –belly  
[redacted number]: with grumpy? no idea, sleezy's running the show –889  
[redacted number]: but i got the disappearances figured out –889  
[redacted number]: yes? –crabby  
[redacted number]: (1 file attached) –889  
[redacted number]: we need to get a move on –889  
[redacted number]: copy – belly  
[redacted number]: understood –crabby  
[redacted number]: also hey good luck with the itty-bitty kitty, loser -889  
[redacted number]: lololol -889

* * *

_The infected aren't disappearing—they're turning into daemons. That we failed to see this defies belief. Yet dwelling on it avails us naught in the face of the daemon threat. Though of human origin, they're unlike the specimens bred for MTs. They cannot be controlled._

 

Loqi looked at the message, feeling a headache coming on. They all should have seen this coming, but they hadn't, and that changed eveything. He'd need to order the evaquations sooner than originally planned or risk losing the entire population, yet he couldn't do that without Ravus' input. The stakes were far too high to be playing on two chessboards at once, with Izunia standing in the overlapping corner; two distinct plans for two distinct futures, but the involvement of Izunia and the cursed Astrals made everything that much more difficult.

A groan escaped Loqi's lips as he tried to think of their next move. They'd had it all planned out – in more than just one way – but the failed invasion had thrown them all into a tizzy. Loqi had no idea what was going in with the brass; Ravus had even fewer answers, and Aranea's work kept her out of Gralea and too busy to intervene. It didn't help that he had been ordered after Prince Noctis, who was rumored to be traveling towards a place where Cor Leonis had been spotted mere hours earlier.

If the prince was the Chosen King mentioned in the prophecy, then Loqi couldn't touch him as long as the Accursed lived on Eos. If he returned from his mission with Leonis in tow – either dead or alive – then that might be enough to keep him safe, but Loqi knew his hope was futile. His MA-X Cuirass would not be enough to take down Leonis, especially if he had others supporting him; the current plan had him intercepting the Lucians at the Norduscaean Blockade, but his past encounters with the Immortal had taught him that no army was large enough to take down the man. No matter how he analyzed the situation, Loqi saw little hope at the end of it.

The mission and Aranea's news left him torn, unable to give either issue the focus they so desperately needed. Loqi knew that if something were to happen to him, the rebellion would adjust and live on – they wouldn't have any other choices, not with everything else going on. The war and the falling Night might be enough to distract Iedolas long enough to give the rebellion an in, yet it was equally – if not even more – likely that the same distractions would leave the rebels trodden and hopeless. The longer Loqi dwelled on these thoughts, the more frustrated he grew; it wasn't a matter of Nifflheim versus Iedolas, it was a matter of mankind battling the Scourge _while_ waging war on each another, in smaller and smaller and smaller groups until the battleground was nothing but a pathwork quilt of overlapping fragments.

He wanted a Nifflheim where the people didn't need to die for the whims of the military brass. Ravus wanted freedom for his country and his people. It should've been an easy feat, as far as politics and coups went, but with the literal Astrals installed into the same chessboard... Between the unraveling political situation and the Starscourge turning innocent bystanders into daemons, Loqi was starting to feel like it was impossible to make heads or tails out of it.

* * *

There was one thing he got right, though, and that was his inevitable loss at the hands of Cor Leonis. When the Lucians showed up at the Blockade six days after Loqi's deployment, his MT troops were able to separate the group into two, the prince and the Immortal in one and the remaining three Crownsguards in the other. Loqi paid the latter group little attention, intent on doing his best to either capture or kill Leonis. The anti-Crystal module in his Cuirass was as dysfunctional as the Wallbreaker Waves had been, and had no effect on the prince, who attacked him in a blur of shimmery blue afterimages while Leonis cut down first the army and then the Cuirass.

Loqi had no choice but to retreat, and that decision led to him standing before General Roth and Izunia himself after his immediate return to Gralea. The two men eyed him with completely different expressions, one sneering and the other entertained. ”Brigadier General Tummelt,” Roth spoke after a painfully long moment of swiping through a document on his tablet. ”I'm sure you are aware of this, but your mission was not one during which failure was acceptable.”

Loqi grit his teeth and refused the urge to shift his weight from one leg to the other. ”My Cuirass was not functioning properly, sir,” he said, keeping his chin defiantly up. ”The anti-Crystal module was infected by the same virus that took down more than half of my troops. Considering my opponents, I was very obviously understaffed and therefore underprepared for the task at hand.”

Izunia hummed. ”I would've thought a prodigy like you capable of apprehending two mere men,” he said, sighing with clear exaggeration. Next to him, Roth grunted.

”Your failure cost us an important pawn, boy,” he spoke, not looking up from his tablet. ”The Emperor was not happy to hear that you let the prince escape.”

Loqi had listened through more than one of Roth's lectures, both personal and those intended for larger audiences, and knew the man's tactics like the back of his hand. Unlike Izunia, whose eyes felt piercing as the strongest arrows, Roth hardly paid him attention in a form other than his words, designed to insult and belittle.

”Sir, I was against Cor Leonis,” Loqi spoke, staring at the blanding spot on top of Roth's head; ”as I'm sure you remember, he is not a man one can take down with a handful of malfunctioning MTs.”

His words had the intended reaction as Roth glanced up, an irritated frown spreading over his face; Loqi returned the expression with one of his own, then smirked when Roth's scowl deepened. ”Such insolense,” the man spat. ”You forget your place, Tummelt. Insulting your superiors will not change the fact that you failed where failure was not an option.”

Izunia, who had remained silent for a while, continued where Roth left off. ”Alas, the popular opinion calls you too _talented_ to be displaced,” he said, cocking his head almost teasingly. Loqi met his gaze and though he felt like was suffocating, he didn't flinch. Izunia truly was far too dangerous.

Roth cleared his throat. ”You would do well to learn some manners,” he spoke. ”Turn in your report within the usual twenty-four hours. General Ulldor will take care of your punishment – I believe you are capable of finding the way without any assistance.”

Loqi snapped into a salute, still sneering, and turned to march out of Roth's office. Caligo had taken care of nearly all of his punishments since he was fifteen, and he had heard more than enough whispers to know what people thought was happening to him behind closed doors. Caligo Ulldor was one of the men whose name traveled the hallways in the form of whispers, careful warnings and shaking heads; he had a reputation, not as a hard man but a soft one, but also that his kindness was all the wrong kind. Or so they thought, at least – not all rumors were based on concrete evidence, and Loqi had nothing to prove the whispered words true. Caligo carried himself like a caring father, sometimes stern but rarely not, and there were people who found it creepy and unsettling.

Loqi – more or less raised by Caligo after joining the military at 14 – was not one of those men, though if there was a thing he regretted, it was the fact that Caligo was one of the Emperor's own men. He'd liked him, once, when peeking out from beneath Caligo's wings had been all he had to do to survive in the military, but now... liking people was for the weak. There had been a time when Caligo was all Loqi had, his parents dead for one reason or another, his friends either trying to enlist or fighting to keep away from the cold reach of the army, but times had changed since and Loqi knew better than to mix personal feelings with what he was trying so hard to achieve.

Caligo wouldn't hesitate to hand Loqi over to the brass if he found out about the rebellion, and so Loqi would not allow himself to hesitate when the time came for them to go their own ways.

* * *

The first time Loqi approached Ravus out of his own will came after weeks of deep thought. They'd talked before, of course, in the form of formal introductions and stilted discussions over military strategy or some other work-related issue. There weren't many forces driving them together: the age gap between them was too large, the matter of their birthplaces like a heavily armed border between them. So, when Loqi finally make his decision to saunter up to Ravus, he had to wait for a suitable opportunity.

It came in the form of a yearly training excercise that put them together in the wilderness north of Gralea.

”I hear you have a bit of a _distaste_ for our esteemed leader, Fleuret,” Loqi said, smirking to hide his hesitation. No matter how tentative his attempt, there was no guarantee it wouldn't blow over; though Ravus was infamous for his hate towards the Empire, he was also known for hating the Lucian Crown in equal measures. The only things he treasured were his sister and country, and if he thought that ratting out Loqi would ensure the safety of either of the two, then he wouldn't hesitate in doing so.

”You _hear_ so, Tummelt?” Ravus answered, quirking an eyebrow. ”I would have thought that a _genius_ such as yourself could have deduced as much on your own.”

”Well, what can I say?” Loqi laughed. He glanced around to make sure they were alone, but the other members of their troops were all within his sightline but still far enough to be out of earshot. Still, he didn't have time to waste if he wanted to do this without arouding suspicion. ”Besides, you're far from the only one – or so I have _heard_ , anyway.”

Ravus looked at him, silent. ”Is that so?” he asked after a beat, a strange expression passing his face. ”Forgive me for finding a bit... strange that such whispers would reach the ears of a man as loyal and patriotic as you are.”

Loqi smiled and shrugged slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three people walking towards them. ”Well, as we've already established, there's little wrong with my hearing,” he quipped, earning a huff of laughter in return. ”Now, let's see, Commander – what would you propose our next move be?”

Ravus accepted the change in topic without a question and moved straight into explaining various possible strategies for the training excercise. Loqi nodded along and when the three human soldiers reached them, he motioned them closer and made sure to include them in the conversation. He wasn't in the clear, not yet, but Ravus had understood the implications and all Loqi could do was wait for them to either take root or become his death sentence.

* * *

When Loqi walked into Caligo's quarters, he found the man standing at the stove, thick-cut garula steaks already sizzling on a hot pan. Putting on his angriest scowl, Loqi kicked off his boots and stumbled further into the apartment, stomping off to the toilet without a word.

”Loqi,” Caligo sighed when he returned to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to the steaks. ”Set the table for us, please.”

Still scowling, Loqi did as told, gathering two plates and slamming them down on the table with little care. He did the same with the glasses and the utensils, even the bowl of salad; for a split second he hesitated, sneaking a glance at Caligo while he pondered tipping the bowl over. In the end, he decided against it; Caligo seemed too tired, and creating a mess would only make him quiet, not angry. Loqi couldn't work with quiet because a quiet Caligo was a brooding Caligo, and as pleasant as that would have been, Loqi couldn't waste his chance to make the man talk. He had too many questions that required answers, and Caligo was his only personal connection to those who had them.

The steaks were good; Caligo was a surprisingly brilliant chef, especially when it came to cooking various meats, and somehow he always managed to procure a matching bottle of Altissian wine despite the numerous laws restricting the import of foreign alcohols. Loqi – and Caligo as well, to be honest – was so used to military moonshine and local spirits that even the strongest wine was as good as fruit juice in his mouth, but at least he had the taste to enjoy.

Soon after finishing his steak, Caligo cleared his throat. ”You really should learn to watch your mouth around your superiors, my boy,” he said, swirling his wine glass idly. ”Safay would not repeat to me your discussion, but he informed me that you'd been running your mouth before him and the Chancellor – again.”

Loqi chewed and swallowed a piece of the steak before answering. ”Well maybe they shouldn't fucking have sent me out on a mission no-one could've finished according to parameters,” he spat out, grabbing his glass and chugging down a good amount of wine. ”What the fuck was I supposed to do with a half-assed Cuirass and a malfunctioning troop, huh?”

Caligo's lips thinned. ”Loqi, Loqi, Loqi,” he sighed wearily, reaching across the table to grasp Loqi's hand in his. Loqi recoiled but didn't pull away immediately. ”I'm just worried, my boy... You know there will be a time when someone decides that I can no longer take charge of your punishments, seeing as nothing ever seems to stick to you.”

That _was_ the truth. Loqi both knew as much and feared the day the brass decided he needed a heavier hand to set him down the right path; another important mission ruined might already be enough to have someone send him to a more dangerous superior officer. Still, the issue was so far out of his own hands there was little Loqi could do about it, and so he chose to stick to what he knew. Scowling fiercely, he tugged his hand free and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair like a petulant child refusing his vegetables.

”Well, maybe I _want_ to be sent to someone else, you shithead,” he grumbled, glaring at Caligo. ”Get assigned to daemon duty or some shit. Fuck it all, I'd seriously take supervising MTs at any of the research facilities over missions like this.”

While the first words barely garnered a small frown Caligo, the mention of the research facilities caused him to flinch. Loqi resisted the urge to smirk – jackpot – and instead continued scowling as the last bites of his steak cooled down on the plate.

”Loqi...” Caligo warned, shaking his head, a truly desperate expression in his eyes. ”You do not – no matter what happens, you must avoid the research faculties like plague. The labs here at the Keep are fine, but the others... I really shouldn't be telling you this, but there's...”

He paused, hesitating, and Loqi uncrossed his arms just to set them on the edge of the table so he could lean forward. Putting on a worried expression, he tilted his head slightly, looked at Caligo in a silent question; soon the older man sighed and ran a hand through the short crop of his hair. ”Ah, shit,” he groaned. Caligo didn't curse often; Loqi could count the times he'd heard Caligo spit out curses with his fingers, and most of those situations had involved a stubbed toe or on one, memorable occasion, a certain Lucian soldier sneaking through what the brass had called their most secure blockade to the date. ”Look, just – just avoid the facilities, okay? I want you safe, my boy, and those damn research bases are the farthest thing from safe.”

The pure vitriol seeping into Caligo's voice had Loqi's eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He was fairly sure he knew what the other was talking about but still he wanted a confirmation, a few more words to confirm the suspicion Aranea's message had settled in his brain. People all around Nifflheim were disappearing at rapidly increasing rates, and the memo she had stolen from whichever base she'd been to had attested to the disappearances being linked with Starscourge infections – the disease originally found only in daemon blood, the primary material used for MT manufacture. But at the same time, everyone who had ever lived in a daemon-infested area knew that the Scourge wasn't spread through daemons – not directly, at least – because then the number of infected would have began to increase long, long ago. It hadn't; instead, the mysterious disappearances had only been going on for some months, which wasn't enough information for Loqi to make any decisions on, but the simple fact that Aranea's memo had been signed by the MRFs meant Besithia was somehow involved.

For a brief moment, Loqi hesitated, unsure if fishing for more information was worth the risk of prying too far; but whereas Aranea had access to the research facilities, Caligo ranked high enough to have the solid information she could only glimpse and try to parse together.

”Are you talking about all the disappearing people?” Loqi asked after a while. Caligo looked up sharply and frowned.

”How do you – no, I suppose the rumors must be spreading already,” he said, the first hurried words soon turning into murmurs. Caligo stroked his jaw in thought, then shook his head while sighing deeply. ”Loqi, my boy, you must promise me you'll keep this a secret between the two of us.”

Loqi snorted. ”Well, it's not like I've got any friends to go whispering to,” he huffed. ”And if the research bases are the place you want me to avoid, I'm pretty sure I can figure out the rest of it.”

Caligo didn't look impressed. ”Loqi, you need to remember your place,” he chastised, already thin lips pursed together in frustration or worry. ”Steer clear of the facilities. If you receive a mission that takes you to any of them, especially the one in West Gralea... Well, I doubt the remaining five would listen to us, but alas, prayer appears our only weapon against the infection.”

The words were as close to a confirmation Loqi was going to get. ”If it's really the Scourge spreading, then couldn't the Oracle stop it? I mean, assuming we find her before she reatreats behind that blasted Wall again.”

Caligo groaned. ”I _told_ His Radiance we could not trust that boy,” he spat out, twisting fingers into his tie. ”It's a miracle he even succeeded in bringing us the Crystal! Shame he couldn't control his sister – the military council is quite furious with him at the moment, but the _Chancellor_ has decided to root for him for some reason and no-one is allowed to touch him either... Argh!”

He paused for a breath, during which Loqi said nothing. ”Well, let us not dwell on mistakes tonight,” Caligo eventually relented, voice calmer once again. ”Now, my boy, there's dessert in the fridge – why won't you fetch it, and then we can see about getting your mission report started, hmm?”

Loqi scowled at the mention of the report but relented, knowing that the sooner he wrote the thing the easier the next day would be. He'd gotten most of what he wanted from Caligo, and if he'd have to give something in return, then – well, that was how things worked in the Empire.

At least he had a pannacotta to enjoy while finishing up his work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always super appreciated, so if you liked the chapter, please leave me a note! <3 You can also find me at tumblr, where I sideblog as @missymoth :)


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